Abigail Barnette's Blog, page 57

The Big Damn Buffy Rewatch S03E11, “Gingerbread”

In every generation there is a chosen one. She alone is just about done with the Michigan State Department of Treasury and their shitty, shitty website. She will also recap every episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer with an eye to the following themes:

Sex is the real villain of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer universe.
Giles is totally in love with Buffy.
Joyce is a fucking terrible parent.
Willow’s magic is utterly useless (this one won’t be an issue until season 2, when she gets a chance to become a witch)
Xander is a textbook Nice Guy.
The show isn’t as feminist as people claim.
All the monsters look like wieners.
If ambivalence to possible danger were an Olympic sport, Team Sunnydale would take the gold.
Angel is a dick.
Harmony is the strongest female character on the show.
Team sports are portrayed in an extremely negative light.
Some of this shit is racist as fuck.
Science and technology are not to be trusted.
Mental illness is stigmatized.
Only Willow can use a computer.
Buffy’s strength is flexible at the plot’s convenience.
Cheap laughs and desperate grabs at plot plausibility are made through Xenophobia.
Oz is the Anti-Xander
Spike is capable of love despite his lack of soul
Don’t freaking tell me the vampires don’t need to breathe because they’re constantly out of frickin’ breath.
The foreshadowing on this show is freaking amazing.
Smoking is evil.
Despite praise for its positive portrayal of non-straight sexualities, some of this shit is homophobic as fuck.
How do these kids know all these outdated references, anyway?
Technology is used inconsistently as per its convenience in the script.
Sunnydale residents are no longer shocked by supernatural attacks.
Casual rape dismissal/victim blaming a-go-go
Snyder believes Buffy is a demon or other evil entity.
The Scoobies kind of help turn Jonathan into a bad guy.
This show caters to the straight female gaze like whoa.
Sunnydale General is the worst hospital in the world.
Faith is hyper-sexualized needlessly.
Slut shame!
The Watchers have no fucking clue what they’re doing.
Vampire bites, even very brief ones, are 99.8% fatal.

Have I missed any that were added in past recaps? Let me know in the comments.  Even though I might forget that you mentioned it.

WARNING: Some people have mentioned they’re watching along with me, and that’s awesome, but I’ve seen the entire series already and I’ll probably mention things that happen in later seasons. So… you know, take that under consideration, if you’re a person who can’t enjoy something if you know future details about it.

Hooray! We’ve reached what I consider to be one of the scariest episodes of the entire series. It highlights the helplessness of children and teens when their parents subscribe to dangerous ideas!

Buffy wanders alone through a wooded area at night, wary, stalking something. Bushes rustle, and Joyce emerges, scaring the daylights out Buffy. Joyce wants to watch Buffy slay, which Buffy is not thrilled about.

Joyce: “But it’s such a big part of your life, and I’d like to understand it.”

This is one of the rare instances where we see Joyce acting counter to #3, even if she is pulling a major #8. When a vampire does appear, Joyce takes on the role of a cheerleader, until she notices that the vampire in question is a guy she recognizes from the bank. The vampire gets away, and Buffy tells her mom to stay put. While Buffy runs off, Joyce goes to a nearby playground to wait, where she finds this:

That’s two dead children, with symbols drawn into their hands.

After the credits, police swarm the scene, while a traumatized Joyce stands by helplessly. Buffy tries to reassure her mother by promising to find whoever killed them, but Joyce says that nothing will make it right. They hug, and Buffy tells her to try to calm down.

Cut to Buffy in the library, shouting at Giles that she will not calm down. Her mother is super messed up by seeing these dead kids. She tells Giles about the mark on their hands, and Giles suggests it might not be a supernatural creature that killed them, but people who committed a ritualistic murder. Buffy asks him to find a “loophole” in the rule that says she can’t kill humans, which stuns him. He suggests that she’s emotionally affected by the tragedy because of her mother’s involvement, which she does not want to hear at all.

At lunch, Xander and Oz are in line next to each other. Xander tries to make conversation with Oz, which is awkward enough on most days, but probably worse when you’re the person Oz’s girlfriend cheated on him with. Oz is a cool guy, though, so he kind of goes with it. Willow joins them at a table, with Amy, the witch from earlier episodes, who’s never around but just kind of there now. I love when that happens on shows, where a recurring character randomly pops up and you’re like, “Ah, they have something to do with the plot this week, I’ll wager!”

Willow reminds everyone that Buffy’s birthday is coming up, which means the worst episode ever is also coming up. So, I’m super happy when Buffy arrives and asks them if they heard about the kids who got murdered and how her mom found the bodies. Then Joyce shows up to ask Buffy if she’s made any headway on the case of the murdered kids. Buffy tells her Giles’s cult theory, and Joyce immediately jumps to witches, which makes Amy and Willow visibly uncomfortable.

Joyce: “I know you kids think that stuff’s cool. Buffy told me you dabble.”

Joyce goes on to say that anyone who would kill children isn’t “cool,” like the group needs that explained to them. She’s visibly shaken, so Buffy gets her out of there. Xander mentions how detrimental this whole thing is going to be to Joyce’s support of Buffy’s Slayer duties, to which Willow responds that she feels lucky that her mom doesn’t pay attention to anything she does.

In the hallway, Joyce asks Buffy if her friends are going to help find the cult, but Buffy tries to get her to maybe stop talking supernatural murder in the hallway. Joyce accuses Buffy of being embarrassed of her, and Buffy tries to explain that she’s compartmentalized her home business and school business, and Joyce is kind of obliterating that compartment system.

Joyce says she’s been moved to help, and she’s called everyone she knows, who called everyone they know, and there’s going to be a vigil at City Hall. Even the Mayor is going to attend. Buffy is worried that too many people are being brought into this mess, but Joyce says maybe not many people will show up.

Cut to City Hall, which is absolutely packed. Even Willow’s mom is there, and she notices for the first time that Willow cut her hair. Willow mentions that she cut her hair in August. So, welcome to January, totally unobservant mom. In comparison to Willow’s mom, Joyce is Mrs. Fucking Cunningham.

Giles is at the vigil, too, and he and Joyce have yet another odd interaction:

Joyce: “It’s been a while.”

Giles: “Right. Not since, um. Not since…not for a while.”

Willow’s mom: “There’s a rumor going around, Mr. Giles.”

Giles: “A rumor? About us?”

Oh, Giles. That sounds in no way suspicious.

Willow’s mom tells Giles that the rumor is about witchcraft being the cause of the murder. Willow tries to blow it off as a silly notion, but her mom has been doing research on the rise of magic use among teens. Before she can get too far, the Mayor takes the podium and gives a very convincing speech about how bad how Sunnydale is a good town and how hard he’s going to fight to make sure it stays that way. He turns over the mic to Joyce, who drops a bomb:

Joyce: “Mr. Mayor, you’re dead wrong. This is not a good town. How many of us have, have lost someone who, who just disappeared? Or, or got skinned? Or suffered neck rupture? And how many of us have been too afraid to speak out? I was supposed to lead us in a moment of silence, but silence is this town’s disease. Too long we’ve been plagued by unnatural evils. This isn’t our town anymore. It belongs to the monsters and the witches and the Slayers. I say it’s time for the grown ups to take Sunnydale back. I say we start by finding the people who did this, and making them pay.”

So, when she says the stuff about Slayers? This is what Buffy and Willow and Giles look like:

Shit is bad here. Now everyone in town knows that a Slayer is a thing, and Buffy was trying to keep that pretty low key.

Later that night, we see Amy and some other witches all gothed out and doing a spell that involves a human skull and all sorts of nasty looking jars. And oh no…

Also not great?

Because that is the exact symbol that was in the dead kids’ hands.

At school the next day, one of the witch kids, a guy who wears black lipstick and eyeliner, gets bullied. Not because of the eyeliner, though you get the feeling that’s been the case in the past. Today, it’s because the bullies think he’s a witch and involved in killing the children. Amy steps in to try to defuse the situation, but it only escalates. Buffy scares the bullies off (her reputation apparently precedes her now), and Cordelia has feelings about that.

Cordelia: “Everyone knows that witches killed those kids, and Amy is a witch. And Michael is whatever the boy witch is, plus being the poster child for yuck–”

Buffy: “Cordelia–”

Cordelia: “If you’re going to hang with them, expect badness.Cause that’s what you get when you hang with freaks and losers. Believe me. I know. That was a pointed comment about me hanging with you guys.”

Through this entire exchange, Giles is standing behind Cordelia, patiently waiting for the fight to be over. I love when he gets stuck listening to high school drama bullshit and just waits it out. When Buffy shouts after Cordelia that witches didn’t do it, Giles tells her that yeah, they actually probably did. He just needs a book that Willow borrowed from him so that he can confirm it.

Buffy heads off to find Willow, and asks Xander where she is:

Xander: “How can I convince you people that it’s over? You assume because I’m here, she’s here. That I somehow mysteriously know where she is.”

Buffy: “Those her books?”

Xander: “Yeah, she’s in the bathroom. But the fact that I know that doesn’t change that I have a genuine complaint here. Look, I’m getting sick of the judgement. The innuendos. Is a man not innocent until proven guilty?”

Buffy: “You are guilty. You got illicit smoochies, you gotta pay the price.”

This exchange finally puts into perspective for me exactly why I hate the Xander-Willow cheating arc. Because when they do get caught, Willow is sad and feels bad, because that’s her character. But there was really nowhere they could go with Xander. He’s the funny guy, so somehow, this had to turn out funny. What happens instead is that he sounds pissed off that he got caught, not actually bad for what he’s done.

Buffy notices Willow’s notebook has the same symbol drawn in it that they found on the dead kids. Willow tries to pass it off as just a doodle, but they’re interrupted by a commotion in the hall. The police are raiding lockers for witchcraft items and taking away kids that have stuff. Amy says they’ve already found her spellbook, just before the police take her away. Meanwhile, Xander is freaking out because he has Playboy magazines in his locker:

Willow: “I have stuff in my locker! Henbane, hellebore, mandrake root–”

Xander: “Excuse me. Playboys. Can we turn the sympathy this way?”

Oh my god, shut up, Xander. You’re standing in the middle of a literal witch hunt, with your friend the witch. Worry about someone else for a change.

Willow tells Buffy that she did a spell with Amy and Michael to protect Buffy. It’s a birthday present. IT’S GOOD TO KNOW THAT AT LEAST SOMEONE IS GOING TO BE CONCERNED WITH PROTECTING BUFFY ON HER BIRTHDAY THIS YEAR THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

They find the stuff in Willow’s locker, and Snyder takes her away. In the library, Giles is being raided. The cops are taking every book, and Snyder shows up to gloat. He tells them about an organization called M.O.O., Mothers Opposed to the Occult, founded by none other than Buffy’s mom.

Willow comes home to find her mother going through some witchy stuff on the coffee table. Her mother explains that she’s not surprised to see Willow involved in identifying with archetypes. She feels Willow is developmentally fine, which Willow isn’t really digging. She doesn’t want to be thought of as a demographic but as herself. Her mother says she’s worried that Willow is delusional for believing she can do spells:

Willow: “Mom, how would you know what I can do? I mean, the last time we had a conversation over three minutes it was about the patriarchal bias of the Mr. Roger’s show.”

Willow’s Mom: “Well, with King Friday lording it over all the lesser puppets–”

Two things:

1) King Friday was a kind and noble ruler who had only the best interests of the citizens of the Land of Make Believe at heart.

2) This is the kind of thing that makes me think #6. The cold, uncaring feminist mother figure is a really insidious stereotype, and once you notice it, you’re going to notice it in a lot of places. Willow’s mom is a psychologist, so obviously that’s a strike against her; fictional psychologists are generally evil, meddlesome, or don’t have their own lives together. She also uses the big, scary words of an intellectual, which also informs us that she is, by virtue of her intelligence, unable to be a warm, human woman. Contrast her to Joyce. Joyce, like Willow’s mom, isn’t around much and doesn’t seem to be very involved in her daughter’s life. But she runs an art gallery. Art is an acceptable thing for a female character to be involved in. It’s all about intuition and creativity, things we unconsciously consider “female”. But intellect is a man’s domain, so it’s used as shorthand here for an uncaring mother who’s too concerned with ideas and thoughts outside of the home. Therefore, we can still see Joyce as a caring parent, while Willow’s mother is self-obsessed. There are dozens of ways they could have made Willow’s mom cold and unfeeling without using feminism and intellect as shorthand for “bad mom”.

In a fit of teen pique, Willow insists that she’s a rebel, that she sacrifices goats and worships the devil, all to try and get some kind of reaction out of her mother. The reaction she gets is a grounding and being forbidden from hanging out with Buffy.

Meanwhile, back at the M.O.O. command center:

Joyce knows about Willow’s witchcraft and forbids Buffy from ever seeing her again. She also promises that Giles will get “some” of his books back if they’re appropriate. Buffy tries to explain how important it is that they have the books so that they can fight whatever evil is out there and did this, but Joyce is focused on her fear:

Joyce: “Sweetie. Those books have no place in a public school library, especially now. Any student can waltz in there and get all sorts of ideas. Do you understand how that terrifies me?”

Boom. This sums up the entire witch hunt effect, which we can actually see happening in America and France and other countries right now. Because people fear for their own safety, they don’t care about the safety of others. They just seek to destroy, either physically or metaphorically, the people they perceive as being the problem.

On the other hand, I’m not a fan of banning books from libraries, but I agree that Giles doesn’t need to be keeping potentially dangerous and rare books in a freaking school library.

Joyce tells Buffy that reacting without a plan is fruitless, and killing monsters and evil and vampires isn’t really helping the town at all. In other words, Slayers don’t do anything. Nice one, Joyce.

Buffy: “And maybe next time that the world is getting sucked into hell I won’t be able to stop it because the anti-hell-sucking book isn’t on the approved reading list.”

Joyce: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put down–”

Buffy: “Well, you did. Doesn’t matter. I have to go. I have to go on one of my pointless patrols and react to some vampires. If that’s all right with M.O.O.. And nice acronym, mom.”

When Buffy leaves, Joyce says she’s just trying to make things better. And suddenly, the dead kids are there, talking to Joyce:

Dead Boy: “You are.”

Dead Girl: “There’s bad people out there.”

Dead Boy: “And we can’t sleep.”

Dead Girl: “Not until you hurt them.”

Dead Boy: “The way they hurt us.”

The playground where the dead kids were found has turned into a shrine with candles and pictures and stuffed animals, the way that shit happens. Buffy is looking at it when Angel shows up. He gives her a much-needed friend hug because he knows she’s in a bad place. They talk about why Sunnydale has reacted so strongly to this death. Buffy finds it a little hypocritical that innocent people die every day, but it’s only when kids die that they care. She tells Angel that she thinks her mom might be right: slaying might not be actually fixing anything because evil is never going to just run out. Angel tells her that it’s important to keep fighting, even though they’ll never win.

Angel: “We do it because there are things worth fighting for. Those kids. Their parents.”

Buffy: “Their parents…”

Ding!

In the library, Giles is being forced to use a computer. Which means he’s basically just stress eating and screaming at it. Also known as a normal work day in Troutland. Xander and Oz have found Giles’s books. They’re at City Hall, all locked up. Buffy comes in and asks them all what they know about the dead kids. They all realize they don’t know anything about them, not even their names. They don’t even know where the pictures of the kids came from.

The problem is that Willow, the only person who knows how to search on the internet, is grounded and can’t come to the phone. Oz contacts her via computer, though, and she’s able to do all the searching on her laptop in her bedroom. I call #15. Even though Oz remembers to send her a message, that’s the extent of his expertise. Only Willow can run even a cursory search of the internet to look for information. The search finds the same kids in the same circumstances in the 1940s and 1800s.

Giles: “A hundred years? How is this possible?”

Says the guy who has literally commanded demonic forces through dark magic. Come on, Giles.

The kids show up dead every fifty years and sow chaos in small communities. And their names are Hans and Greta. But that’s all they find out before Willow’s mom comes to her and tells her that she absolutely believes everything Willow told her about witchcraft.

Willow’s mom: “Now, all I can do is let you go with love.”

Then she leaves and locks the door behind her.

Is it legal in California to have locks on kids’ bedroom doors where you can lock them in? I don’t think that’s legal in Michigan.

Giles thinks that this is a case of the Hansel and Gretel story being somewhat true:

Giles: “Some demons thrive by fostering hatred and, and persecution amongst the mortal animals. Not by, not by destroying men, but by watching men destroy each other. They feed us our darkest fear and turn peaceful communities into vigilantes.”

Buffy: “Hansel and Gretel run home to tell everyone about the mean old witch.”

Giles: “And then she and probably dozens of others are persecuted by a righteous mob.”

Before they can do anything about it, eyeliner kid runs in with a bloody face and tells them his father attacked him. The town is gathering at City Hall for a trial, and Amy has already been taken in.

Back at Willow’s house, her mom comes to her door with other people wearing M.O.O. insignia:

Willow’s Mom: “Time to go. Oh, and get your coat, it’s chilly out.”

Willow: “Go? Go where?”

Willow’s Mom: “I said get your coat, witch!”

So things are right on schedule with the vigilante process.

Buffy and Giles hurry to tell Joyce what’s happening, but they’re quickly chloroformed by Joyce and the other M.O.O. members. Buffy sees the dead kids before she falls unconscious. They tell Joyce that they’re afraid of the bad girls and she should make them go away forever. Xander and Oz arrive at Willow’s house and find her gone and her room ransacked. She, Buffy, and Amy are at City Hall, tied to stakes surrounded by all the books that are going to be burned. One thing I’ll say for this witch hunt, they’re being super efficient.

At Buffy’s house, Giles wakes to find Cordelia slapping him repeatedly. Then she complains about her hand hurting from slapping him so much. Because Cordelia is amazing. So, if Cordelia hates her former friends so much, why is she there? Because her mother confiscated her black clothes and scented candles, so now the situation negatively affects her. And it’s a good thing she’s here because she gets to deliver one of my favorite Cordelia lines:

Cordelia: “How many times have you been knocked out, anyway? I swear, one of these times you’re gonna wake up in a coma.”

Oz and Xander rush to City Hall, where concerned dads chase them down. Buffy comes to and finds herself tied to a stake, ready to burn. She tries to reason with her mom, telling this isn’t what she really wants.

Joyce: “Since when does it matter what I want? I wanted a normal, happy daughter. Instead, I got a Slayer.”

OUCH. We’re going to touch on this later.

Willow’s mom passes Joyce a torch, and they make plans to get together and have lunch, in the casual way you do when you’re about to burn your children alive. They light up the books and Amy saves herself by transforming into a rat and slipping the ropes. That leaves Willow and Buffy to fend for themselves. They threaten to turn everyone in the crowd into rodents and fish, and one man suggests they should all leave. That’s when the dead kids appear to them all and demand they fulfill their promise to get rid of the bad girls.

Giles is stuck on the car ride from hell with Cordelia, instructing her to make a potion while he tries to remember an incantation that will force the demon to appear in its true form.

Giles: “And, uh, drop a toad stone into the mixture.”

Cordelia: “This? It doesn’t look like a toad.”

Giles: “No reason it should. It’s from inside the toad.”

Cordelia: “I hate you.”

I know everyone loves watching Giles barely tolerating Xander, but I really wish we would have had more scenes of him having to deal with Cordelia one-on-one.

At City Hall, Oz and Xander crawl through the ventilation system to try to reach Buffy and Willow. Buffy begs Joyce to stop, but Joyce can’t see that she’s under the influence of the demon. Giles and Cordelia rush into City Hall and find the doors to the room where all the burning is happening are locked. Giles rips a bobby pin out of Cordelia’s hair to pick the lock, while Cordelia mocks him for his juvenile delinquent past.

I kind of want to know why anyone thought burning at the stake was a great idea inside a building. If my obsessive compulsive disorder has taught me anything, it’s that buildings are extremely flammable and you need to be constantly vigilant. I get up in the night sometimes to check outlets, just to see if they’re hot. I can’t imagine making a fire inside a building. Especially not one that’s big and hot enough to burn a human being. Like, how is everyone in that room not dying of smoke inhalation right now?

Buffy sees Giles run into the room, and she looks so hopeful and relieved to be rescued. Keep this image in mind when we get to THE EPISODE THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED:

Let’s talk about #16, shall we? We have seen Buffy bend metal with her bare hands, but she can’t struggle free from some rope?

Cordelia grabs a fire hose and drives the crowd back with it, until Buffy reminds her that a better use would be to put out the fire that’s burning two people alive. Giles does the incantation to make the demon reveal its true form, and it’s not great:

This is like the final form of Station from Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey and Vigo the Carpathian from Ghostbusters 2 had a demon baby. Only when the demon isn’t cute anymore does everyone realize that hey, it is kind of weird that dead kids were controlling their actions. It tries to keep doing its “protect us” schtick, but it’s not as convincing anymore. Now that it’s convenient to the plot, Buffy is able to break the stake she’s tied to. She leans forward and there’s a big, wet crunch.

Buffy: “Did I get it? Did I get it?”

Yeah, I think you got it.

Then Oz and Xander crash through the ceiling to rescue them.

We cut to Willow’s house, where she and Buffy are doing a spell to try and change Amy back from her rat state. Buffy asks if Willow’s mom knows they’re doing the spell, and she doesn’t. It seems that the parenting in Sunnydale has returned to the usual:

Willow: “She’s doing that selective memory thing your mom used to be so good at.”

The spell doesn’t work, and Amy is still a rat.

Buffy: “Maybe we should get her one of those wheel things.”

And that’s it. That’s where the episode ends. These girls were almost burned to death by their own mothers, but that’s never dealt with. And Buffy. Let’s get back to what Joyce said about Buffy.

The demon did not make Joyce suddenly hate the fact that her daughter is a Slayer. This is a common theme throughout season three. She doesn’t like that Buffy is the Slayer. She never seems to stop wishing Buffy didn’t have to be the Slayer. That’s not support, it’s begrudging acceptance. And now she’s tried to burn Buffy at the stake. Sure, Buffy knows that the burning thing was a result of the demon’s influence, but she heard her mom say that she wishes she had a different daughter. And we never see any resolution on that. Just, ha ha, Amy is a rat. It’s so disappointing. Even a short scene of Joyce telling Buffy that no matter what the demon made her say she loves her and is proud of her would have gone a long way in making Joyce a more likable character.

Other than the tragic omission of a resolution to the I-wish-I-had-a-different-daughter thing, this is a solid monster-of-the-week episode, and it’s awesome that it finally breaks #8. It also shows us that #8 is preferable to the alternative. When people in Sunnydale actually see what’s going on, they react…poorly.

Next up, the worst episode of the entire series. Somebody hold me.

GUEST POST: Domestic Violence: A Look At The Link To Substance Abuse

BE ADVISED: THIS SITE DOES NOT HAVE AN ESCAPE BUTTON.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and Caroline from OpenEducators.org asked if she could share some information with Trout Nation. Unlike sponsored posts, I’m not receiving compensation or endorsing anything, just sharing the article and links provided.

Last year, Trout Nation put together a list of domestic violence resources by location. If you or a loved one need help, you may find it helpful. However, that part of the site also does not have an escape button, so please use caution.

 

Photo via Pixabay by Unsplash

Domestic violence affects millions of Americans and destroys families every year. Nearly 3 out of every 10 women and 1 out of every 10 men in the U.S. experience the effects of domestic violence, which include depression, PTSD, substance abuse, and suicidal thoughts. In extreme cases, it can even lead to homicide.

The reasons for domestic violence vary, but no matter what they may be, it’s important for the victim to know that there are resources available for help. It’s also important to remember that when domestic violence impacts one person in the home, it impacts everyone else. Children who see and hear abuse and its aftermath are susceptible to their own violent behavior, PTSD, depression, and emotional and mood disorders and often feel powerless and worthless.

Domestic violence and substance abuse have been heavily linked; one study in New York showed that over 90% of IPV cases involved drugs or alcohol. Because substances affect moods and prompt impulsive behavior, they can lead to violence if the conditions are right. Unfortunately, substance abuse can affect the victim, as well, as they use drugs or alcohol to escape the painful reality of their lives.

Because domestic abuse is so varied and can come in so many forms, it’s important to remember that it does not always have symptoms that can be seen. Abuse is a pattern of behaviors that can include physical assault, sexual assault, threatening, emotional and psychological abuse, stalking, keeping the victim isolated from friends and family, and verbal abuse. There is a stigma that surrounds domestic violence that often keeps people from talking about it, but it’s important for loved ones to start a conversation if they are concerned and offer to find help.

Violence is something that can be learned, which means it’s very important not only for the abuser to seek therapy or counseling, but for the victim and any children in the home as well. The damage that abuse can do takes years to heal, and for some the pain never goes away. Kids are especially sensitive to the effects of violence and could potentially begin to decline in their studies at school or in social relationships. Not only that, but seeing abuse play out in the home means children are more likely to become violent themselves, or to turn to substance abuse to cope.

There is never just one victim with abuse; the pattern creates a domino effect that touches many different people throughout various stages of life. If you or a loved one is experiencing abuse, know that help is available, and that there is no room for blame where a victim is concerned.

True Blood Tuesday S02E06 “Hard-Hearted Hannah”

Hey y’all. Here’s the MP3. Start it when the HBO logo and sound fade. I’m super giggly this week.

There’s a place in the world for the angry young man

Well hey there, everybody! I left on a rather abrupt note, and I apologize for that. I also apologize for how disjointed and rambling all of this is going to sound, but it feels important to me and it does concern this blog and some changes that are coming up, so try to follow me here.

I have taken some stock in things. Some people were upset at the way I handled my conflict with another author. I’m at a weird intersection on this one. A part of me is like, “Oh no, I disappointed people,” and another part of me is so super glad that I disappointed people, because it made me take stock and recognize a role that I’ve been typecasting myself in. The Angry Young Man.

I started this blog back in 2007 or 2008, I think. That’s a long time ago. I didn’t start writing about Fifty Shades of Grey until 2011, but that’s when I think of this blog really beginning. Before those recaps, I was a total nobody. Worse than a nobody. I was a has-been. I was a failure. So, when I got mad about Fifty Shades of Grey and people got mad with me, I felt like, yes, I’m a voice, I’m giving people a good feeling of not being alone, we all hate this together, fuck the establishment! I felt like the scrappy underdog.

The thing is, at the end of the story, the scrappy underdog usually wins, and then it’s over. My books got moderately successful again, I felt like a somebody again, but I never took off the Angry Young Man persona. I didn’t even feel like it was necessary to take it off, even though every new success made it get a little tighter. But I had this new voice, and people listened to what I was saying, so when I saw people doing stupid shit and everyone just letting them get away with it, I was like, well, I can say something about that and people will know it’s happening!

That was my primary motivator. I saw a thing, I felt things about the thing, and I said things, because I was afraid that no one else could see the thing. And this was all because of three things that really were happening/had happened, that nobody could see. Those three things were my name, my bad experience with publishers, and my toxic friendship baggage.

Now I’ve tossed out the toxic baggage. I’ve already shared how I feel about publishing and my name. And you know what? Those were the things that were important to talk about. Those were the things I was afraid no one could see. And I put myself out there and got personal and said all the things I thought people weren’t seeing. I made those things seen.

Now, I don’t have that need anymore. Now that I don’t have that gnawing fear that some cosmic injustice might pass without other people seeing it, I don’t feel that need. I know I have a voice and that if something shitty happens to me again, this time, I can say something. And because of that, the thought of squeezing into this Angry Young Man costume is exhausting.

I’ve been blogging about Fifty Shades of Grey for five years now. Five years, three and a half books and a movie. Five years of getting thirty emails for every single news story about Fifty Shades of Grey that happened. Then she announced that second retelling from Christian’s POV and I was like…I don’t know. I don’t know if I have the strength. I’m going to be doing this forever. Someone once said that about me and E.L. James, that we were like Batman and The Joker, we’d be doing this forever. But I don’t want to do it forever. First, I was just yelling into the void in the hopes that people would hear me and see what a shit book it was. Then, I was doing it to entertain you (and because you guys bailed out my friends financially). After that, it was, unfortunately, my brand. It became my coworker who I really, really hated, but I liked my job so I had to keep associating with this coworker. Plus, I feel this really weird gratitude toward Fifty Shades, like I owe it to the franchise to keep my hatred of it at the forefront of my mind, because of all the good things I got from mocking it. Or something.

But I’m done with that. I know I’m going to lose some readers, but I hope you all understand that I’m just tired of hating. And the suit really is getting too small. Plus, with all of this nonsense about rape culture being at the forefront of the stupid presidential election, I just need a brain break from men who think they can assault women without consequence and women gleefully proclaiming that they’d be just fine with being assaulted. So much of that attitude is tied up in Fifty Shades of Grey and its reception, and I need a break. So, I’m not going to be doing the recaps anymore, and if I do any reporting on the franchise, it’s going to be very sparse.

The same with the Don’t Do This Ever posts. There’s a reason I haven’t been doing as many of those, and that’s simply because most of the time now, more important voices are covering things. It no longer feels like all of these things will go unseen, which was my driving fear in the first place. It’s pretty freeing once you realize that you don’t have to be personally involved in every bullshit thing that goes down online. That doesn’t mean I’m steering this tugboat toward Sunshine Sisterhood harbor. I’m not going to start espousing “Be Kind” in an attempt to keep people from talking about important issues. But I’m not going to don the Angry Young Man persona and go out there and get ‘em anymore.

Now, the Buffy recaps? True Blood Tuesday? I’ll keep doing those because I love doing them. They bring joy and positivity into my world, and that’s what I’m trying to do more of. Not in a dopey-eyed, Sunshine Sisterhood of Keeping It Kind way. Making those posts about the toxic friendship did take something off of me. It did free me. And I’ve spent my week off not just from the blog, but from everything. I didn’t write if I didn’t feel like it. I focused on myself, on how I feel about stuff, and how I feel now that all of this giant, toxic, festering weight has been lifted. And I decided that overall, I want to be a more positive person. I want to focus on the good. I’m tired of being so cynical that I’m miserable all the time, especially when it’s at such odds with who I am as a person.

Again, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to start telling everyone to Be Nice and sweep things under the rug. I’ll still have stuff to say when saying stuff is warranted. Hopefully, I’ll still be interesting. If I’m not, well, then I guess I wasn’t interesting to start with, if I could only be interesting when talking about other people. And this won’t affect the publication of Say Goodbye To Hollywood. Although a lot of people are excited for it because of the satire aspect, at heart it’s a romance, and I’m not going to sacrifice what I think is a pretty cool love story.

I’m not quite sure why this feels like a goodbye letter. It’s not. I’ll still be here. Hell, I’ll have a True Blood Tuesday post tomorrow, and a Domestic Violence Awareness Month post on Wednesday. Maybe it’s because so much of this blog has been dedicated to Fifty Shades of Grey and drama, that it feels like I’m closing a door. But I know that I’m not, because I know that I have so much more wonderful strangeness in me that I can share without it being tied up with other people’s work and other people’s problems.

And while all of this seems sudden, it’s a change that’s been coming for a while. I’ve just been resisting it and trying to deny how tired I felt about it all lately. Seeing Billy Joel again in August really got the ball rolling. He opened with “Prelude/ Angry Young Man” and the words “I believe I’ve passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage” hit me hard. I really have passed the age of getting riled up about shit that ultimately won’t matter, especially when “life [goes] on no matter who was wrong or right.” And especially when the shit that does matter needs so much more energy.

So, if you’re leaving, I’ll miss you, and thank you for the support. If you’re staying, I can’t promise everything is going to be the same. Shit is going to get weird, but hopefully in a good, mutually beneficial way. And if you’re just interested in seeing me get fired up about stuff, there’s always Twitter. I’ll never not be mad on Twitter, and I’ll never not be RTing other people being mad.

Anyway, hope you all understand. Onward and upward.

Blog Hiatus

“Don’t Do This, Ever” posts and “Grey” recaps suspended indefinitely. Regular blog schedule will resume the week of October 17th. See you then.

Catharsis

Did you come here looking for super gossipy posts about someone who done me wrong? Well, they’ve been removed. I know what a lot of you might be thinking: “But Jenny, I had a problem like that with someone else, too! Those posts really helped me!” I know that a lot of you are thinking that, because a lot of you said that. And here’s what I’m going to tell you:

Write about it.

I’m not kidding. Write about what happened. Write about what those people did to you. Write about how unfair it is and pour all of your pain, all of that burning, poisoning grudge into it. Do it, then let it blow away. You don’t have to do it publicly. Do it privately. Burn the notebook. Delete the file. Because it feels so, so good. Just hear me out, and you might want to give it a try (and thank you to Em, who gave me this idea in the comments).

When I hit publish on that final post this morning, my fingertips tingled. It’s cliche, but I really did feel a huge weight lift. Grudges and unfairness do seem to have mass. Due to the events I talked about in those posts, my entire writing career has been tainted by that anger and hurt. And tonight, I get to let that go. And from here on out, I don’t have to think about any of that. I was walking around subconsciously trying to prove to myself that I was better than she had made me feel. And now, that need isn’t there. I remember what it means to actually write because I love it, and not because a toxic person has unwillingly duped me into a mental competition. It isn’t a matter of forgiving someone you can’t forgive. It’s just refusing to let them be a part of your story. Removing them from the narrative (in the theme of the post titles).

The mushroom post on Monday was oddly prophetic. Maybe I stumbled onto that forest for a reason. It’s a metaphor. All of that past, all of those horrible things? They’re just the dirt I had to struggle up through, and those posts were the downpour that cleared the way. And the way I feel about writing, and myself, and my friends, that’s the mushroom.

This has been a weird week. And it’s only Wednesday.

Bring it on, Thursday. I’m ready to look forward.

True Blood Tuesday S02E05 “Never Let Me Go”

This week’s episode was really enjoyable. Get the MP3 here and hit play when the HBO logo/sound end.

A Walk Through Mushroom Forest

This weekend, I went on a retreat with some writer friends to a campground in Grand Haven, Michigan. While looking for a place to smoke a joint in some peace and god damn quiet (because it was a campground and they were having some sort of Halloween family weekend or something and there were kids just everywhere), I wandered off into the woods. It was just regular old woods, just like around any camp ground, meaning it was full of trash and junk that people had rudely disposed of out there (including a rubber glove, which I don’t even want to think about). But there did seem to be a trail, and as I ventured down it, I saw something that wasn’t trash:

Mushrooms! Bright orange mushrooms, like I’d never seen before. Obviously, more investigation was needed.

(The rest of this post is image heavy, so I’m putting it behind a cut)

I found all kinds of mushrooms, like this one, which is incredibly toxic, so never eat it.

In fact, never eat any random mushroom you just happen to find in the woods. Even if it looks like fruit snacks:

Don’t eat mushrooms that look like something else has been eating it:

Not necessarily because it might be poisonous (though it might), but because it’s rude to eat someone else’s dinner.

I found a slug:

I’m pretty sure he wasn’t dead.

I also found a chair that is definitely for some kind of elven king:

And what is almost certainly a meeting place for fairies:

I have never seen so many different mushrooms in my life. For example, purple ones:

Let alone purple mushrooms that look like a little penis head.

Mushrooms were everywhere!

 

 

 

 

And as I walked around taking these pictures, I remembered that where you see mushrooms, there’s stuff going on under the ground. I got the weirdest feeling that I was walking around on top of a giant mushroom. That, coupled with my desire to venture ever deeper into the forest, following the trail of mushrooms, pretty much convinced me that I was going to be devoured at some point. So I fled.

That was my visit to the mushroom forest. If you enjoy seeing random pictures from my pointless adventures, might I suggest visiting my Instagram? If you go there right now, you can see a picture of a toad.

Jenny Reads Fifty Shades of Midnight Sun: Thursday, May 26, 2011, part three or “I don’t understand why you’re interpreting the things I’m doing as the things I’m literally doing.”

You know what? I can’t just leave it there.

I had to. Elizabeth Banks has single-handedly turned an entire type of wood into a joke.

Ready for a weird scent description?

She smells of Ana and apples and sex.

Apples and Sex is the least popular of the classic Bath and Bodyworks fragrances. Seriously, though, all I can think about is someone jizzing across a plate of apple slices.

“You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I’ll take you shopping.”

“I like my sweats,” she argues.

Of course she does.

Ha ha, poverty. How very droll.

Christian tells Ana that he has to leave, then he goes to her bathroom and just happens to see a bottle of baby oil there. He takes it into the bedroom:

She’s dressed when I return, evading my gaze. Why so shy suddenly?

“I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind.”

“No. I’ll be fine,” she says, examining her fingers, still avoiding eye contact.

For a big fancy pro-am Dom, he sure can’t pick up body language cues from subs. She’s. Not. Into. This.

He puts the oil on her butt and:

“There.” I pull her sweatpants up. “I’m leaving now.”

They go to the door, and she still won’t make eye contact with him. He tells her to look at him.

Large blue eyes peek up at me through long, dark lashes.

“You didn’t cry.” My voice is low.

And you let me spank you. You’re amazing.

He doesn’t ask her if she’s okay, even though she’s clearly acting like she’s not. He’s just focused on his experience, and how great it was for him. If it was great for him, obviously it was also great for her.

Once I’m in the car I look back, but she’s gone. She’s probably tired…like me.

Or, she’s emotionally fucked up because she just had her very first experience with BDSM ever, and even though it wasn’t as super hard and sadistic as Christian Grey allegedly is, she got no real aftercare. Rubbing baby oil on her butt and saying, “Okay, bye now,” isn’t enough.

Closing my eyes, I see her riding me, her head tipped back in ecstasy. Ana does not do things halfheartedly. She commits. And to think she had sex for the first time only a week ago.

With me. And no one else.

Yes, we get it. We get it, Christian. Ana has never had sex with anyone else. Would you like to brand her, so everyone knows for the rest of forever? Do you want it engraved on her tombstone? I’m seriously thinking that when Ana dies, her obituary will read, “Anastasia Rose Steele Grey, who has only had sex with one man her whole life, sexual god among unworthy mortals, Christian Grey…”

When they get to the hotel, Christian asks Taylor:

“Good. That reminds me. Can you collect her old Beetle tomorrow and dispose of it? I don’t want her driving it.”

“Of course. I have a friend who restores vintage cars. He might be interested. I’ll deal with it. Will there be anything else?”

You can’t just take someone’s car! THAT IS GRAND THEFT AUTO AND IT IS A FELONY. Christian is asking his employee to commit a felony. And that employee is like, “Yeah, sure, we can do that. I’ll totally steal her car and give it to my friend. Can I get you a glass of water, while I’m at it?”

Fuck you, Taylor. I trusted you.

Christian goes to his hotel room and writes Ana an email:

You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty, and brave woman I have ever met.

I forgot about Ana’s bravery. That drove me nuts reading the original series. She doesn’t do anything brave until like, the last book, and she never does anything smart, but all of the characters around her are like, “You’re so smart, you’re so brave.” Her entire life is like one big fucking participation trophy.

He warns her not to drive her Beetle again, and she emails back that she’s going to drive it to the dealership to sell it. She also tells him that caning is a hard limit now. He emails her back to tell her she should go to bed, and that Taylor is going to take care of her car. She emails him back:

I am intrigued that you are happy to risk letting your right-hand man drive my car but not some woman you fuck occasionally.

She goes on to ask why she should trust Taylor to get her a good deal.

What the hell? Some woman I fuck occasionally?

I have to take a deep breath. Her response irks me…no, infuriates me. How dare she talk about herself like that?

Yeah, only Christian is allowed to talk about you like that. You know, with all of his, “we’re not dating, I don’t make love, I fuck hard, etc.” I mean, honestly. How did she get the impression that she was only a sex partner and not someone he valued? Because he came over, had sex with her twice, spanked her, then left immediately after without a single thought given to her needs?

As my submissive she’ll be so much more than that. I’ll be devoted to her. Does she not realize this?

Clearly not, and that’s Christian’s fault, not Ana’s.

And she has driven a hard bargain with me. Good God! Look at all the concessions I’ve made with regards to the contract.

How dare she so ungratefully view this sexual relationship as an impersonal arrangement solely about sex?! Especially when I’ve treated it like an impersonal arrangement all along!

Even though he’s looking at this and going, wow, this makes me super mad that she thinks this about herself, it’s not the fact that she feels that way that really bothers him. It’s how he feels about her feeling it that matters. He’s not thinking, “I really wish she wouldn’t feel this way, because I value her more than this.” He’s thinking, “I really wish she wouldn’t feel this way, because it makes me feel bad, and that’s not fair for her to do that to me.”

He emails her back and tells her that he forgives her for the way she’s treating him, but he could just drive over and spank her some more if he wanted to. He says Taylor used to be in the army, so he can drive anything, and then goes on to say:

Now please do not refer to yourself as “some woman I fuck occasionally” because, quite frankly, it makes me MAD, and you really wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

Okay, Bruce Banner. We already know that Ana doesn’t like him when he’s angry. She’s terrified of him when he’s angry. So here he is, abusing her remotely via email.

She doesn’t write back immediately. Perhaps she’s intimidated by my response.

Gosh, I don’t know why she would feel that way.

Ana does write back and tells him that she’s not sure she likes him, anyway.

I stare at her reply, and all my anger withers and dies, to be replaced by a surge of anxiety.

Shit.

Is she saying that’s it?

No. We’re not that lucky. But at least next time we’ll be onto a different fucking chapter.

Have it all, lose it all. You ready for more yet? (The Pettiest Blind Item You Will Ever Read part 4)

This is part four of an ongoing series. Part one can be read here. Part two can be read here. And part three can be read here.

After her time on the GRRWG board of directors, Erika took over a new committee. The “steering” committee. It was one of her parting gifts to the group that she created in her last days as president, in order to help keep us “organized.” The steering committee, chaired by Erika, had the power to redraft the by-laws and policies and procedure manual at any time. It was the ultimate power trip, though I can’t remember a time she ever actually used it after her initial revisions. It seemed like she enjoyed having control, but not necessarily using it unless she needed to punish us via inconvenience. She pulled several members into the steering committee, including me, Carol, Bronwyn, and, for some reason, Pam.

For most of my friendship with Erika, she loathed Pam. Along with the plagiarism issue, Erika felt Pam was just not a good enough or dedicated enough writer, that she didn’t pay enough attention to craft, and that she was a horrible mother. But her feelings toward Pam began to chance as the rest of us got published. With no one else to play Trilby to her Svengali, Erika revised her opinion of Pam and took her under her wing. Erika had begun working as an editor for a small press at this point, and acquired Pam’s first book. This move would obviously make Pam grateful and beholden to Erika for ever. Her loyalty was iron-clad. So now we were all expected to play nice with a woman Erika had done nothing but fill our heads with poison about. Erika had the antidote of her ego, but we had all been programmed to mistrust her.

The steering committee met on a few occasions. Every meeting wasted our collective time. No matter what objections or suggestions we raised, it was Erika at the keyboard. If she didn’t like what you suggested, it didn’t get typed into that document. Despite the fact that Ruth, then Carol, had assumed the presidency, Erika still controlled everything, and she would use that control against us if she wished.

At the same time, we began to kick around the idea of a local writing conference. One of the complaints we’d been hearing from new members was the lack of resources for writers in the area. There were groups that met at local coffee shops or book stores, but they were often populated by the stereotypical white male writer looking for an audience but seeking no real criticism. These people were looking for a secular organization (because Christian writers’ groups are plentiful in the greater Grand Rapids area) that was supportive and helpful, and while we fit that bill, we were still relatively small and hard to find. Why not have a day, we decided, where prospective members could pay to attend workshops on craft and industry? We’d invite agents and editors and set up pitch appointments. We’d get a killer keynote speaker, a nice (but affordable) hotel, and use local businesses as vendors. It could be a great opportunity, and hopefully introduce some new members to us. Everyone, including Erika, was all for it. We began meeting an hour before GRRWG to plan and strategize.

We were deep into the planning stages when the conference committee received the following email (graciously provided for reprinting by Carol; names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved):

Hi [Carol],

I’m writing to let you know I’m stepping down from conference committee. [Bronywn] has asked me to let you know she is as well. After some discussion, neither of us feel confident that GRRWG is in the position to be considering a conference at this point. Additionally, it’s unlikely that anyone will be in the position to assume leadership over this venture which would include long hours and much participation by other members to pull off. Unfortunately, we have trouble even filling speaker spots for monthly meetings.

Eventually, it would be nice to see this happen, but with a membership that’s grown only incrementally per year, the reality is a conference isn’t terribly feasible for years to come. Frankly, GRRWG isn’t really in the position to attract a big name or editors. Nor does it have the capital to support one. As it would not be an RWA event, it’s unlikely to bring in many writers. We’d have to put out a great deal of cash at the outset with no guarantee to recoup that.

My second reason for writing is to ask you to reassign my membership duties to another member. They’re small, and I don’t mind doing them, but since I’m less and less likely to be at meetings, I’ll be ineffective at acting as the membership chair. My schedule just doesn’t allow me to attend more often. I’ll be happy to hand over the attendance book, guest book and forms to the new chair.

Finally, I see in the June minutes that I was to do a cover for the writing guide. But in the July minutes, it looked as if marketing was getting ready to go. Do you need a cover still? Let me know and I’ll send this over this weekend.

I am planning to retain a membership. Additionally, I’ll continue to help [Bronwyn] with recognition and will order next year’s bookmarks.

Thanks,

[Erika]

The only thing that disappoints me in the reprinting of this email is that she didn’t sign off “regards”. If you know Erika’s identity and have ever been in contact with her via email, be aware that she considers “regards” to be the coldest, most impersonal way of ending an email. “Regards” is her equivalent to “fuck off”.

Carol refers to this letter as the, “Nobody can run a conference but me” letter. It did not have the intended effect. The conference committee forged ahead, including Bronwyn, who remained on the committee; she’d never asked Erika to resign on her behalf. Because she was no longer interested, Erika reasoned that Bronwyn would automatically follow along and took it upon herself to announce Bronwyn’s resignation.

Despite Erika’s insistence that we wouldn’t draw any “big names”, fantasy author Jacqueline Carey attended as our keynote, and an agent from a prominent literary agency came to hear pitches from attendees. The conference was small, but it hardly financially destroyed us. Though Erika didn’t attend the full event, she did “stop by” the hotel on Friday night during the pre-conference reception, presumably to gloat over our failure. When she arrived and found the event hadn’t crumbled without her leadership, she sat in the hotel bar while her mother came to the mixer and urged Bronwyn Green and others to leave the event to visit with Erika. We did not. The next day, she presented a workshop with two other authors, left immediately after, and didn’t sign at the book signing. Her behavior over the weekend was our punishment for not doing exactly what she wanted us to do.

As for Erika’s resignation as membership chair, she never turned over any of the materials Bronwyn needed to run the committee, another one of her little “punishments” meted out to purposely inconvenience us. Getting any information handed over was nearly impossible, even with Bronwyn, Erika’s BFF, as our middleman. When GRRWA, and later GRRWG, was established, Erika set up the email, email loop, and paypal accounts. When asked for these or any other resources (like the bookmarks she volunteered to provide), she would either make an excuse as to why she couldn’t do it “right now” or simply ignore emails and phone calls.

On the heels of our successful conference, GRRWG began to plan a second. This time Erika did help out, attending a few planning meetings here and there. She didn’t want to be in charge, she told us, as though that were somehow obviously on the table. She would take an easy job, like helping with registration. She also volunteered to put together folders with paper and pens for attendees that would be handed out at registration table. Fool us once, shame on you; fool us twice, shame on us. For whatever reason, we trusted her with this position and these tasks.

Two weeks before the conference, Erika was scheduled to go on a cruise to celebrate her twentieth anniversary. Before she left, she was supposed to give Bronwyn Green the list of paid attendees. We couldn’t access the Paypal account, because we didn’t have the passwords (she had set up the account during her presidency), and the date for her trip was approaching. Bronwyn asked multiple times for her to please send along the list, but when Erika did respond to the requests, it was always to say that she was just too busy getting ready for the cruise. We were down the wire and desperately needed the names, but Erika didn’t care. She had control over something and could limit our access to it if it got her off. Bronwyn made a final, last ditch attempt to get the Paypal information from Erika, who answered her cell phone from the airport in Detroit. Erika claimed it was too late, as there was no internet access. This was obviously a blatant lie; by 2012, almost every airport in the U.S. had some kind of WiFi. We never received the information, and simply had to trust that attendees had paid their conference fee. Someone (and my memory escapes me here) had to go through the lengthy process of creating a new Paypal and un-linking GRRWG’s bank account from the old one, just so we would have access.

As for the conference folders, those, like the bookmarks, did not arrive as promised. I ordered cases of folders and pens online, Bronwyn printed up stickers with our conference logo, and she and I and our friend Jonesie spent a frantic hour before registration opened assembling them. What Erika did pull through on was sitting behind the registration desk, greeting people as they checked in. When I went down to make sure she had actually showed up, she mentioned my new haircut: “I don’t like it. I liked it better longer.”

Despite the fact that we’d pulled in another big name author for our keynote and an editor from a major digital publisher to take pitches, our second conference wasn’t as successful as the first. Since the stress of the event had led to both Bronwyn and I fantasizing about car accidents that wouldn’t kill us, but would hurt us enough that we would have to resign from the committee, we decided to step down. No one else stepped up, which was a shame, but at that point, Carol had moved off the U.S. mainland and other members of the committee were ready to pass the torch, as well.

The conference debacles, while frustrating, weren’t anywhere near as damaging as the personal and professional attacks Erika launched during this time…

To Be Continued…